Saturday, April 13, 2013

"...I cannot be in the same room with him and not feeling his presence. I'm aware of his every move, every change, every look... position of his body compared to mine. His whole existence surrounds me inevitably like a girdle. It stops me from breathing, but I need it to be able to exist. He kissed my shoulder, so lightly, so lovely... I can still feel the tender, warmth and simplicity of his gesture that overwhelmed me. I couldn't look him in the eyes in that moment. I felt like I'm transparent and that he would be able to know... He would know...
He told me he loved me. It was one of those sentences, everyday, casual, not bearing anything else but tenderness, gratitude, simple affection. The most simple one. But it was... I'm still searching for the right word... It was more than a surprise, less than a shock, because I couldn't let myself to dive into it. My facade needed to be perfect, I needed to be perfectly calm, my words needed to be perfectly organized into a meaningful, well-arranged sentences, when nothing really was perfect. I wanted to hear him saying those words to me, over, and over, and over, and over again...
I dreamt of him last night... And he was mine... He had really loved me last night..."

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